"I've mended their manners for a while, I guess. As I peeped about betimes this morning, I found—a paw! If cats are bred with hands and gowden rings on their fingers, they shall e'en ha' sporting-room i' the mill! No bad luck, methinks."
Robin uncovered the prize, and drew out a bleeding hand, mangled at the wrist, and blackened as if by fire; one finger decorated with a ring, which Lord William too plainly recognised. He seized the terrific pledge, and, with a look betokening some deadly purpose, hastened to his wife's chamber. He demanded admittance in too peremptory a tone for denial. His features were still, not a ripple marked the disturbance beneath. He stood with a calm and tranquil brow by her bed-side; but she read a fearful message in his eye.
"Fair lady, how farest thou?—I do fear me thou art ill!"
"She's sick, and in great danger. You may not disturb her, my lord," said the nurse, attempting to prevent his too near approach;—"I pray you depart; your presence afflicts her sorely."
"Ay, and so it does," said Lord William, with a strange and hideous laugh. "I pray thee, lady, let me play the doctor,—hold out thy hand."
The lady was still silent. She turned away her head. His glance was too withering to endure.
"Nay, then, I must constrain thee, dame."
She drew out her hand, which Lord William seized with a violent and convulsive grasp.
"I fear me 'tis a sickness unto death; small hope of amendment here. Give me the other; perchance I may find there more comfort."
"Oh, my husband, I cannot;—I am—I have no strength."